


Never Any Other Way

by Bennyhatter



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha Rick, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Alpha/Beta/Omgea, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Animalistic Tendencies, C-Section Birth, Carol is amazing, Daryl is a sassy shit, Gift!Fic, Giving Birth, HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAZELNUT, M/M, Mentions of Claiming Marks, Merle is hilarious, Mpreg, Omega Daryl, Omegas have animal attributes, Rick Grimes is a Good Alpha, Shane is a good friend, Somewhat graphic depictions of said c-section, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:05:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6764458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennyhatter/pseuds/Bennyhatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl and Rick are a mated pair, and Daryl is expecting to give birth soon. Sooner ends up coming faster than they were expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Any Other Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hauclair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hauclair/gifts).



> Guys, I have a problem, and that problem is that I like to take traditional concepts and throw them out that window over there. Like, I'll keep the basis of it, sure, but I like to add my own kind of something. So here it goes:
> 
> In this universe, omegas are born with animal attributes - ears/tails/claws/fangs/etc. It's how they're known to be omegas, aside from the normal heats/more submissive tendencies/etc. etc. Alphas and betas don't have these, although alphas still have knots.
> 
> Basically this was my excuse to give Daryl ears and a tail, because oh my fucking god it's great. It's so great. *flails*
> 
> HAPPY BIRFFDAY HAUCLAIR I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. ;U;

“Rick, wake up.”

The alpha cracks open an eye with a quiet groan, pushing himself up enough so that he can see his mate’s features in the half-light of almost dawn. Daryl’s eyes are glowing, his body quivering, and for a second Rick thinks something is horribly wrong until his omega grins at him brightly enough that no light is needed to properly convey his joy.

“What is it, darlin’?”

“They’re _movin’_ ,” Daryl whispers, low and awed as he lays his large hands flat against his swollen belly. Rick has to smile at the archer’s constant wonder of the pups growing big and healthy in his womb, even though his omega status was marked at birth. Reaching over, he rubs one of Daryl’s soft, furry ears and feels how it twitches between his fingers. He loves how responsive his mate is to any kind of touch, and now is no different. Daryl rumbles happily and nuzzles into the touches, his wicked tongue curling out to lap at the center of Rick’s palm.

“You gotta feel ‘em, alpha.” Their fingers twine, gun calluses and calluses from Daryl’s beloved crossbow scraping and sending pleasant tingles down the alpha’s arm. He lets his mate guide his hand, resting his palm right over Daryl’s navel and closing his eyes even though he knows it’s not necessary. When he’s rewarded with what is definitely a kick from one of the cubs, he laughs and kisses his lover’s smiling lips, keeping his hand in place and feeling his offspring moving about.

“They’re active this mornin’,” he murmurs against the corner of Daryl’s mouth, his nose pressed against the beauty mark and the feel of his omega’s moustache and neat beard rasping against his mouth leaving him grinning. He nips at Daryl’s jaw and rumbles approvingly when the omega’s ears flick back and he obediently offers his throat with a sweet sigh. Rick licks at the Claiming scar, then at Daryl’s Adam’s apple, and he decides that since they’re already awake and he needs to be at work in a few hours anyway, he may as well make them breakfast.

“Anything in particular you’re hungry for?” he asks as he rolls out of bed and stretches. Daryl makes an approving noise, and a playful hand swats at his ass. Grinning wolfishly, he looks back at his mate, who has turned carefully onto his side and is watching him with those sky-blue eyes he loves so much. He sees the love reflected back at him, and can’t help but run his fingers through Daryl’s sleep-mussed hair, stroking over his ears and seeing the blankets twitch as his lover’s tail wags.

“Pancakes.” The archer grins and starts trying to push himself up, so Rick braces a knee against the mattress to help. Back when Daryl first started to really show, he fought every scrap of ‘coddling’ Rick tried, bitching that he was a big boy and he could sit up on his own, and so the alpha had backed off and let him figure it out for himself. Now, with three pups on the way and a stomach so swollen he has no hope of seeing his feet, Daryl just rolls his eyes and huffs good-naturedly, and lets Rick pile pillows behind him so he can lean back comfortably.

“With strawberries, I’m guessing.”

“ _And_ whipped cream. Chop to it, lover boy. Got four hungry mouths ta feed.” The omega grins wide, nothing but cheek and twinkling eyes, and Rick bites at his shoulder with an indulgent smile of his own—nips at one soft, twitching ear and laughs quietly when Daryl whines grumpily and shoves his face away. He catches his mate’s wrist and presses a kiss to the center of his palm, and then the tip of each finger, and he leaves Daryl blushing and grumbling, his wagging tail betraying him, to go and make his archer the requested pancakes.

Rick has known Daryl since his first year on the force, when he hauled Merle Dixon in for possession and the alpha’s younger brother showed up and hollered for almost an hour at Merle for being a _fucking dumbass_. He’d never seen such an outspoken, badly-tempered omega before, but Daryl’s ears had been pinned flat against his hair, his tail had been straight and stiff, and his teeth had been bared. Merle had shouted back at him, the two of them facing off through the bars, and Shane had been expecting Daryl to cave at any minute, the presence of so many alphas—one of which was kin—working against him to make him compliant. Daryl hadn’t backed down an inch, though, spitting and snarling and even throwing a punch at Merle through the bars, and that’s when Rick had decided to step in.

Now, four years later, he’s Shane’s trusted deputy, the brother-in-law Merle still sometimes insults, and Daryl is so close to having their first litter that they’re keeping the duffle bag with everything they’ll need at the hospital by the front door just in case. Daryl has been on medical leave from his job for almost two weeks, because the closer to time he got, the more doctors worried about the strain to his body and the cubs he might unwittingly cause himself. Rick had agreed with them, because Daryl’s job involves a lot of heavy machinery and questionable substances. His omega isn’t as happy to be homebound, but he’s just as anxious as his alpha to make sure nothing happens to their cubs, so he’s dealing with the boredom the best he can.

He’s still Daryl, though, still stubborn and determined to do things his way until there is no other choice, which is why Rick isn’t at all surprised when his mate wanders into the kitchen just as he’s flipping the last of the pancakes onto a plate and checking the mixer to make sure he hasn’t overbeaten the whipped cream.

“Look at you, bein’ all domestic,” his archer teases, and Rick arches an eyebrow at him just to get that smirk he knows Daryl saves just for him. The omega settles in his chair, easing himself into it, and drags the bowl of already-cut strawberries closer. He sucks one into his mouth with deliberate slowness, biting into the ripe fruit and ignoring the juice that trickles down the side of his beard and drips onto his bare chest. Rick feels the low thrum of arousal from his mate’s display, and he smells Daryl’s answering pheromones as they look at one another silently, two strong wills waiting to see who will crack first.

It’s Rick this time, because he needs to be _responsible_ and feed his mate, and Daryl laughs victoriously as his large, furry ears perk and his tail thumps against the leg of his chair. “I win, fucker,” he crows.

“Yes, darlin’, you win,” Rick snorts as he sets the pancakes down and quickly gets his hands out of the way. Even with his fast reflexes, he narrowly avoids a fork in the back of his hand when Daryl goes in for the kill. Sitting back in his own chair, he waits for his mate to fill his plate before he grabs his own food. He glances at the time quickly and starts shoving the pancakes into his mouth, enjoying the light sweetness of the whipped cream and the ripeness of the strawberries mingling on his tongue.

“Gonna shower before work?”

Looking at Daryl again, Rick laughs and reaches across the table to wipe away a smudge of melting whipped cream from the corner of his omega’s mouth. “Yeah,” he murmurs, licking the cream from his thumb just to watch the way Daryl glares and his hold on his fork tightens. His lover has a very active libido thanks to his biology, and as much as Rick would love to bend the archer over the table and fuck him until they ruin breakfast and each other, the doctors were very strict. Maybe if his lover was only carrying one cub, but there are _three_ , and most sexual positions they could try right now would just leave the omega too uncomfortable. They have to settle for kisses and gentle touches, though if it gets too bad Rick is not at all opposed to giving his gorgeous mate pleasure with his mouth, but time is against him right now.

“I love you,” he murmurs, clearing away the plates and pressing a sugar-sticky kiss to Daryl’s temple. The omega’s ear tickles the side of his face, making him smile, and when Daryl rumbles happily and tilts his head back for a proper kiss, Rick cannot deny him. He also can’t help but lay his hand on his lover’s belly again, just in case, but it would seem that the cubs have settled for the moment.

“Love you too,” Daryl hums, and his eyes are bright and happy, his tail wagging, and when Rick starts to pull away the archer is quick to grab him by the back of his head and pull him into another slow, sweet kiss. His omega’s claws gently scratch at his scalp, and the feeling of it is wonderful enough that Rick rumbles and kisses his mate a little harder. He has to pull back before it goes too far, and Daryl makes his displeasure known with a growl and a sharp nip at his lips. “Soon as doctor’s clear it, yer fuckin’ me so hard I can’t walk,” he huffs, and Rick presses a tender kiss to the top of the younger man’s head, nuzzling at one of his trembling ears.

“It’s a promise. Got Carol’s number?”

“Yes, I got her number,” the omega grouses, rolling his eyes. “And Michonne’s. And Andrea’s. _And_ Bob’s. Hell, even got Abraham’s. Although if I somehow magically go into labor while you’re in the shower, I think you’ll be the first ta fuckin’ know. Get gone, Grimes, and go wash yer damn self. I’ll be here with the dishes, wishing away this fuckin’ hard-on that ya won’t do nothin’ about.”

“Soon, darlin’,” Rick chuckles, pressing another kiss to Daryl’s soft, dark hair before reluctantly pulling away. “Behave yourself, and you’ll be rewarded soon enough.”

“Better fuckin’ be.” Daryl grins, unrepentant, and they both know that what society deems omegas should be and how Daryl actually is are _vastly_ different, but Rick has always loved his archer’s fiery spirit and his take-no-bullshit attitude. It’s a breath of fresh air, having a mate who can go toe-to-toe with him and even _win_ despite not being able to claim an alpha’s supposedly superior status.

He wouldn’t have his lover any other way.

 

 

 

The day is slow, which is both a good and a bad thing. On the one hand, sleepy little King’s County has decided to stay sleepy for once, and there are no high-speed chases on the highway or teenage delinquents loitering where they shouldn’t be. On the _other_ hand, no one has robbed a bank or loitered where they aren’t meant to, and so Rick is sitting at a desk writing paperwork and ignoring Merle’s slurred obscenities from the drunk tank, where the eldest Dixon has once again landed himself after a night of partying too hard and trying to drive home while heavily intoxicated.

“You’ll be let out when you’re sober, Merle,” he finally sighs after forty-five minutes of non-stop insults, and the burly alpha sneers and smacks at the bars before stalking to the cot fixated to the wall and flopping down heavily.

“Better tell me when them cubs are born,” the man mutters, his bleary, bloodshot eyes narrowed and his scowl closer to a pout.

“You’ll know, trust me. Daryl still loves you, even if I can’t always understand why.” That part Rick mutters under his breath, reaching over to grab his phone when it buzzes loudly across the faux wooden top of his desk. He unlocks the screen and feels his breath catch when he sees a text from Carol.

_Daryl called; possible contractions. Taking him in._

“Rick?”

Looking up, he stares over the half-barrier that separates his desk from Shane’s. His best friend is leaning forward, his dark brown eyes wide and concerned and his scent edging into distress.

“Everything okay, man?”

“Carol is taking Daryl in,” he says, feeling the swooping surge of nervous energy and the steady buzz of excitement warring for dominance in his stomach. His skin feels too tight and like it’s vibrating at the same time, and he’s only aware he’s causing a disturbance with his scent when their secretary Nancy, a pretty young beta, whines and presses her palms flat against the desk. “He might be having contractions.”

“The fuck’re you still doin’ here, then?” Shane is already on his feet and pulling Rick out of his chair, pushing him insistently toward the door. The alpha in him wants to growl and lash out at being bossed around, but the rational part of him who _knows_ Shane is grateful for his friend, his soul brother, who always knows how to handle a situation even when Rick’s mind is chanting _he’s having contractions, Daryl is having contractions, he’s in labor_ over and over again.

“Leaving,” he growls, and with that he bolts for the door; ignores Merle’s indignant yelling from the drunk tank and slips around the officer just coming in the door without even recognizing who it is. He’s too focused on getting to his car and getting to the hospital, getting to his omega and taking care of him, to pay attention to anything else.

He’s just slammed the driver’s door shut when his phone buzzes in his hand, and he sees Daryl’s name and the picture of him Rick had taken when they’d first moved in together—curled up in bed, naked but for the sheet covering him, with his face relaxed and his ears laid calmly back as he’d slept.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he croons as soon as he picks up, and he can hear Daryl’s fast, tight breaths on the other line as easily as he can sense his omega’s distress. “You know you gotta breathe, baby. C’mon, just like you practiced.”

“Fuck you, I’ll breathe how I goddamn want,” Daryl spits at him, but there’s no anger in his tone—he’s just nervous and trying not to panic, and Rick completely understands.

“You’ll breathe how the doctors showed you,” Rick rumbles back, and he uses the cadence of his voice to calm his mate since he can’t do it physically. He can tell it’s already working, because Daryl’s breathing is slowing into the more practiced, regular breaths he was instructed to take when he went into labor—or thought he might be. “Is Carol driving?”

“Like the crazy psycho she is,” the archer agrees, and although his voice is still a little shaky he sounds much calmer now. Rick can hear the sweet-tempered omega’s chuckles in the background, as well as the muffled sounds of other cars on the road. “Gonna be there in two minutes at this rate, an’ we just left.”

“You hush now, Pookie, and let me focus on not killing someone accidentally,” Carol chides, and Rick smiles himself as he imagines the looks they must be giving each other right now.

“Just deliberately,” his mate snorts, and Rick laughs. He can almost see Daryl relaxing further in his seat, lulled by the steady comfort of his friend and his alpha, and Rick is tempted to throw on his lights and his sirens so people will get out of his way, but he knows that breaking the law to get to his omega faster is still frowned upon, so he grips the wheel tightly with his free hand and keeps his breathing steady for his mate’s benefit as he makes his way through the traffic to King’s County Hospital.

 

 

 

The hospital is bustling when Rick strides through the doors, and he almost knocks a nurse over because he’s so focused on getting to wherever Daryl is that he’s not paying attention. The omega reacts to his distress with a soft, timid sound, and her mouse-grey ears flatten nervously when he stops long enough to look at her. She’s an older woman, her hair just starting to match her ears and tail, and Rick tries to calm himself enough to stop putting everyone within a ten-yard radius in distress.

“I’m looking for my mate,” he tells her, smiling and seeing her calm in turn. She puts her hands on her hips and tuts at him, but it’s a playful noise to match her smile and the dimples that appear when she does.

“Calm yourself down first, sugar,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m guessin’ you’re here for that young thing who came in cussin’ his head off?”

“Sounds about right,” Rick agrees, rubbing the nape of his neck and grinning sheepishly. “He’s a bit of a spitfire.”

“I’ve noticed. Breath of fresh air, if you ask me. It’s nice to see a young omega who isn’t cowed in the presence of an alpha or two.” Her grin grows, her green eyes twinkling, and Rick decides already that he likes her—she has the kind of temperament that puts others at ease, and even though she’d reacted submissively to his broadcasted distress at first, she seems more than capable of holding her own. She’d have to be, to be working in a hospital.

“Can you take me to him?” Looking around the waiting room, he licks his lips and tries to tamp down on ancient instincts that are demanding he take Daryl somewhere safe and secluded for his mate to birth their litter there—somewhere that no one might try to challenge Rick for the right to the omega he’s claimed as his. The world isn’t like that anymore, and he knows for a fact that Dr. Stookey is the one who’s going to be giving Daryl his cesarean section, and Bob is completely devoted to Sasha.

“Follow me, hon. I’ll show you where he’s at for now, until we get him a room.”

Rick trails after the omega—Becky, she tells him—keeping close and continuously looking around to gauge any possible threats, even though he knows that there are none. Becky just smiles indulgently and pats him on the arm whenever he starts to rumble too loudly.

They hear Daryl before they see him, and Rick had already latched onto his omega’s scent trail long before he heard his mate’s swears and shouts. He can hear Carol’s lower replies, can hear the laughter in her voice even if he can’t make out the words, and he lays a hand on Becky’s shoulder to let her know that he’s got things from here.

“Congratulations, sugar. Bet they’re gonna be just as gorgeous as their daddies,” she coos at him, and he’s treated to one last sweet smile before the woman goes back to her rounds or whatever it was she was doing before Rick barged into the hospital. He doesn’t stand and watch her go, but rather takes a deep breath and heads for the door he can hear his lover behind.

“ _Richard Andrew Grimes, you get the fuck in here right now so I can kill you_ ,” Daryl snarls right as he’s about to grab the handle, and Rick laughs as he obeys and slips into the room—immediately ducking the bedpan Daryl hurls at him and wincing at the loud sound it makes when it impacts with the door.

“Missed you too, darlin’,” he croons, and Daryl bares his fangs with another wordless snarl. His mate’s face is red and sheened in sweat, the tendons in his throat bulging a little, and he’s gripping the rails of the bed hard enough for the aluminum to be creaking in protest.

“Hi, Rick,” Bob greets him cheerfully, not at all perturbed by Daryl’s display of wildness. He’s gotten so used to the man’s temper and brusqueness through the months that it no longer has any effect on him, and Rick doesn’t doubt that he’s seen his fair share of volatile omegas through their labors before. It’s just another day at the office for him.

“Hello, Bob.” Nodding to Carol, who is trying to stroke Daryl’s bangs back from his face with little success, he approaches his mate’s other side and lays his hand over the omega’s, letting his touch calm his archer. Daryl slumps back against the raised bed, his head lolling back against the pillows as he pants through the last part of another contraction and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Never the fuck again,” he growls, his ears laid back so tightly that they almost blend in with the sweaty, tangled mess of his hair and become invisible. “Never again, Rick.”

“Everyone says that,” Rick murmurs, stroking Daryl’s knuckles until he lets go of the rail and grabs his alpha’s hand instead, squeezing hard enough for Rick’s joints to pop and his skin to turn white. He doesn’t tell his mate to stop, just keeps petting him and crooning quietly as he leans forward to press a kiss to Daryl’s sweaty forehead. “Just remember to breathe, darlin’. I’ve got you. I’m here now.”

“I’ve got my fist ready ta be shoved up yer ass,” Daryl hisses tiredly at him. He already looks so worn out, and Rick can’t even imagine how he must actually be feeling. His muscles are twitching sporadically, like his entire body is going through some form of contraction instead of just the muscles needed to help try and deliver the cubs.

“Time to go, Rick,” Bob tells him, and Rick nods as the doctor lays a calming hand on his arm, his nostrils flaring as he fights his instincts. He _knows_ Bob is a beta—most doctors have to be, when they’re in a profession that involves the possibility of caring for claimed omegas or injured alphas. Their beta scent is a calming influence, something almost neutral because it will not invoke an aggressive reaction from the majority of alphas. Right now, though, Rick’s mate is in labor and in pain, and he’s having a difficult time letting _anyone_ close, but he manages to smile at Bob. The doctor smiles back and pats his arm. “We’re already on a time crunch, since the cubs are early.” Here he looks at Daryl, who is gritting his teeth as he starts to squeeze Rick’s hand again. “Never like to do things the easy way, do you?” Bob teases.

“Wouldn’t be a damn Dixon if I did,” Daryl snorts, and Rick gives his lover a quick kiss and noses at his Claiming mark, pressing his teeth into the scar and enjoying the instantaneous reaction of Daryl going pliant with a quiet whine. It will help for now, and that’s what his omega needs. Carol, who has stood silent and watchful like the den mother she is, brushes Daryl’s bangs back from his forehead and kisses his temple, her tail swaying slowly behind her and something that sounds like a purr vibrating from her throat. It’s obviously soothing to Daryl, who manages a weak smile and nuzzles their friend.

“Gonna be the first ta see ‘em,” he whispers, and her chuckle is light and as soothing as a summer breeze.

“Technically that’s you and your big, strong alpha over here.” She gives his head another pet, and then steps back so that Becky, who is smiling radiantly as though _she’s_ the one who’s about to have cubs, can step in and start preparing Daryl to be moved. Rick knows that Daryl will be in good hands between her and Bob, and he knows that he’ll be there just in case anything might possibly go wrong, so he gives Carol a quick hug and a nuzzle, and then he follows Daryl as they wheel his bed out the door and head for the operating room.

 

 

 

Watching Bob cut into Daryl’s stomach while his mate tries in vain to see over the barrier of blue cloth they’ve put across his shoulders is an experience Rick isn’t sure he’d like to repeat any time soon. Knowing their cubs are about to come into the world is a wonderful thing, but seeing the shiny scalpel drag across Daryl’s abdomen, blood welling up after it, makes his alpha nature want to attack the ones who would dare harm his mate, even though he knows the area is numbed enough that Daryl feels no pain.

“We got this, alpha,” Daryl mumbles, and he sounds a little bit drunk and a lot excited, his hazy blue eyes wide and eager and his ears flicking like they can’t decide what they want to do. His tail is strapped lightly to the table beneath him, just in case he gets too worked up—standard procedure with cesarean sections for omegas, Bob had promised.

“I know you do, darlin’,” Rick croons, bending down to press a kiss to the smooth, now-dry skin of his lover’s forehead and nuzzling his hair; breathing in the scent of the woods that clings to Daryl almost like it’s his natural scent, because his omega spends so much time amongst the trees, out in nature where he thrives. “I love you so much, Daryl.”

“Love ya too, asshole.”

Laughing, Rick nips at one of the younger man’s ears in admonishment, seeing the cheeky grin Daryl gives in reply before he stands up and steps back to give the nurses room to work. He almost wishes he hadn’t looked when he sees Bob’s hands in Daryl’s body, carefully moving aside organs to get to his womb, but then he finds it and Rick’s breath catches as he watches the scalpel move skillfully across the surface.

Everything happens so quickly after that that it’s almost a blur to Rick. He watches as first one, then two, and then the third cub are brought into the world, all three of them letting out impressive little howls as soon as they’re able to. Two have dark tufts of hair on their heads already, and the third—the boy—has blonde hair so fine that Rick almost thinks he’s bald at first.

“They’re gorgeous, darlin’,” he whispers, feeling the overwhelming surges of love and pride as he looks down at them. All three are squirming little bundles in their blankets, and when he reaches out to touch the first girl’s head, he sees the tiny ears still pressed tightly to her scalp, and he rumbles approvingly.

These are his offspring—his testament to his love for his beautiful, wonderful mate. They are the combination of Rick and Daryl, and he already knows that King’s County is in for a world of trouble as these three grow up. Bending down, he nuzzles their tiny bodies and rumbles again, teaching them his call, and all three settle with quiet noises, their faces scrunched up like they’re contemplating another round of fussing, but for now they’re content.

“Share, alpha,” Daryl grumbles, and Rick picks up the two girls while Becky waits for his nod before scooping up the boy with a quiet, trilling coo. “Ain’t just yers, y’know. They’s my blood too, so quit hoggin’ ‘em and _bring me my babies._ ”

“Already am, sweetheart.” Chuckling, Rick and Becky bring the cubs to their technical-mother, and Becky lays the boy on Daryl’s chest as soon as the shield is taken down. Daryl doesn’t even pay attention to Bob, who is skillfully placing the last stitches that’ll close him up again. It’s a good thing they heal so fast, but precautions must be taken regardless, and in this case Rick will not allow for anything to go wrong.

Seeing Daryl hold their son, his face a mask of so much love and joy as the archer croons and nuzzles the cub’s tiny head, makes Rick’s eyes burn and his throat feel tight. The girls in his arms react by squirming and grunt-whining, already so in-tune with sensing their alpha’s emotions, and he nuzzles each of them—kissing their silky-soft hair and giving them a quick groom with long swipes of his tongue over their heads. Once they’ve settled again, he lets Becky take his omega daughter and reaches down carefully to pick up his son. Daryl takes the baby girl in his arms, looking so proud of himself that Rick’s heart soars anew.

“You did so good, darlin’,” he praises, and Daryl whines happily as he cuddles his daughter to his chest and lays her along his arm, freeing up the other one for his omega cub and reaching for her as soon as he’s ready.

“Damn right I did,” his omega grins, looking tired now and ready for sleep. He wants his cubs first, though, and no one will deny him the right to hold his children before they have to be taken away to be checked over to make sure they’re completely healthy. “You didn’t do so badly either, Grimes. Guess I can’t take all the credit, since you helped make ‘em.”

“I’ll take whatever you give me, Daryl.” Rick kisses the side of his face, and then gives him a proper kiss when his lover tilts his head expectantly, and Becky’s soft coo makes Rick rumble as his pride and love for his family is recognized and appreciated. When he finally has to step back and hand over his son, he gives the cub reluctantly to Becky and watches her lay him in the little table that will be his bed when he’s not with them. His daughters each get their own as well, and he watches as they’re wheeled out the door and forcibly reins himself in so he doesn’t follow.

Daryl needs to be taken to recovery for a little while, even though he wasn’t fully anesthetized for the surgery, and Rick wants to be there to make sure his mate will be okay. He doesn’t have anything to worry about, because Daryl is a Dixon and everyone knows that Dixons are notorious for being too stubborn to let anything keep them down for long.

Sure enough, his mate grabs his hand before they move him onto the gurney that’ll take him to the recovery area, his blue eyes clearer now than they were, and his ears are trembling with a mixture of excitement and exhaustion. “You know I’d give you anything, lover boy,” he purrs, and Rick laughs as he leans down for one more kiss.

“And in return, I’ll give you the world,” he promises. Daryl smiles against his lips, nipping playfully at Rick’s week-old beard, and they bump noses in a quick nuzzle.

“You already have,” Daryl whispers, and Rick can’t help but kiss him one more time before stepping back to let the nurses do their job, his smile so wide it hurts his face. When Becky touches his arm, he follows her into a side room so he can get out of his scrubs and wash his face and hands again before joining Daryl in his temporary room. Becky doesn’t stop him when he swings by the nursery first, looking through the spotless glass window at his cubs and crooning even though he doubts they can hear him through the wall that separates them.

“Do they have names yet?” the nurse asks, standing beside him and looking at all of the cubs squirming and crying in the nursery while a male beta makes his way from bed to bed, checking on everyone. When he gets to Rick’s cubs, he looks at their charts and then at Rick, smiling widely and giving him a quick thumb up.

“We wanted to see them first, before we decided,” Rick replies, pressing his palm to the glass and leaving behind faint smudges that mark his passage. When he’s done looking at his cubs and drinking in the sight of them, he turns to the woman and gives her a smile that makes her smile just as brightly in return, her green eyes warm and her ears quivering. “I’m ready to see my mate, now.”

“I bet he’s ready to see you, too. C’mon, sugar, follow me. I’ll take you to him.”

Rick follows her, glancing back once more before turning forward and walking toward the man who has become his everything—had already been his everything probably since the moment Rick first saw him take a swing at his own brother, his strength and his ferocity not at all syncing with his biology, but all of it coming together to form the most beautiful creature Rick has ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Daryl is his, and he is Daryl’s, and Rick would not have it any other way.


End file.
